


Safe and Sound

by alabasterclouds



Series: My Two Gay Dads [5]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Crying, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Age Play, Roughness, Separation Anxiety, Sick Character, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-02 14:18:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19443154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alabasterclouds/pseuds/alabasterclouds
Summary: Captain Holt has gone away on a business trip and Amy (and Jake) have been left to their own devices for a week without their Papa. Amy catches a bad cold and ends up feeling awful at work and needing comfort. She gets it from the most unlikely of people - Rosa Diaz.Warning: it's ageplay. Read at own risk.Notes: Hi all! Hope everyone's having a good summer so far. Come join me at http://alabasterclouds.tumblr.com to prompt me, chat with me, or just be friends!





	Safe and Sound

It was the cough that was the worst, Amy thought. It always was.

She'd never had the best luck with respiratory illnesses, especially with her asthma, but it seemed that as she got older, they seemed to get worse. And it was especially bad when Papa was away. If Amy had her way, Papa would never go away and leave her and Jake, especially when she wasn't feeling well. And of course Jake never got sick. He was fine, eagerly rolling back and forth on his chair, laughing and joking with Boyle. It was Amy who had to huddle miserably in her chair, trying to contain the illness to her own little corner of the room. There was no point in taking a sick day - the cold had progressed to the gross tuberculosis-like cough stage, and Amy couldn't justify taking yet another day off work when her paperwork was piling up to the ceiling.

Jake had done his best to try to take care of her, but two Littles trying to care for each other usually ended in disaster, and neither wanted to bother Kevin unless they had to. Holt had been careful to tell them that Kevin was of course there if they needed anything at all, but that he, and the house, were to be used as a last resort only. So Amy and Jake had muddled along all week, Amy's usually immaculate side of their bedroom littered with wet pajamas, tissues, cough drop papers, and glasses of water, and Jake tentatively trying to bring her soup and rub her back with Vicks Vapo-Rub while she had irritably snapped at him because her _chest_ hurt, not her _back_ , and couldn't he do anything right?

Amy did feel a _bit_ badly about that. Jake had only tried to help.

Now, she watched him pick up his leather jacket to go out on a case and toss her a sympathetic smile. "Babe, maybe you should go home," he suggested.

Amy glared at him. "And who's going to do this work if I go home?" Her voice turned high and mocking, and Jake barely stifled an eyeroll as Rosa giggled in the background. Rosa always giggled in the background whenever Jake and Amy had snarky fights at work, and Amy hated it. She threw Rosa a glare, earning herself a skeptical eyebrow raise, and turned back to Jake.

"I can't do it," she said, realizing that her voice was turning quickly towards whining. She stopped. It would never do to whine at work. If Holt was here, she'd have been in his office already, whining and probably in tears, but he _wasn't_ here. Trust him to not be here when she needed him!

Jake's eyes were calm and understanding. He knew exactly how much Amy was suffering without Holt being here. She was even more of a baby when she was sick than she was normally, and Amy knew Jake was doing his best to handle that, but his own Little tendencies were getting in the way, and he was starting to be worried about the fact that she didn't seem to be getting better.

Amy opened her mouth to say more, but an explosive, disgusting cough came out instead. Rosa, from across the room, made a face. "Santiago. Ew. Go home."

"I _can't_ go home!" Amy fought the urge to stamp her foot and gulped at her Swell bottle, which was emptying quickly with how much she was coughing this morning. "All of these case reports have to be filed before I can," she said, her tone quieter, her voice holding a hoarse note. Rosa winced a little in apparent sympathy, but her voice didn't change.

"So why don't you ask one of us to help? Your boyfriend, maybe, or me, for example?" Rosa crossed her legs. "Instead of whining like a baby and spreading germs around, why not turn to your team?"

"Because none of you were there for half the evidence turned into this case, it's not in the evidence room because it's already been submitted to the court, and--" Amy coughed again, the spasm triggering the beginning of an asthma attack as it exploded out of her chest. She gulped at her inhaler, lying conveniently on her desk, and got her breathing under control. "Anyway, it's just easier if I do it myself."

"And you think that none of us can do it as well as you can." Rosa smirked. "Perfectionist much, Santiago?"

Jake turned and made a slashing motion across his throat. "Give it a rest, Diaz," he said mildly, but Rosa got the message and nodded. Jake usually didn't get involved, but Amy knew that he was being more protective of her because she was so sick. Rosa turned back to her computer screen, and Amy refocused on her work until Jake came over to kiss the top of her head.

"Please try to go home when you can," he murmured, and she nodded, not meeting his eyes. She knew very well she should have gone home hours ago. She planned to get out of here as soon as possible.

Jake left, and Amy dove into her paperwork, taking time to cough and sip water. Rosa stopped by her desk and dropped off a cold bottle of water just when Amy was considering gathering the last of her energy up to go and refill her water bottle. She didn't say anything, or even look at Amy, but Amy felt a brief burst of gratitude.

But there was another growing problem. Amy's pull-up was getting soaked. With each burst of coughing, she wet herself a little. It had always happened to some degree, but now that Amy was in her mid-30s, it was happening more and more. She was glad she'd worn one of her overnight pull-ups today, as they held more, but she was going to have to change soon, and that was why she wished Holt hadn't gone away, more than ever. He would have noticed long before now that she was squirming uncomfortably, and found an excuse to call her into his office to change her diaper and probably cuddle her for a few moments, too.

But he wasn't there to help, now, and Amy's energy was flagging. She watched the others file out for lunch and looked down at her stack of files, which seemed just as high as it had been this morning. Being classified evidence, she couldn't even take them home, either. Amy wanted to collapse on her desk, but instead pocketed her inhaler and favourite yellow pacifier and decided to step outside for a few moments for some fresher air. It was a cool day today; maybe the chilly air would help her breathe a little better.

The cold air helped a little bit; Amy took a few deep breaths and sucked her paci for a few moments, studying the blue-and-cloudy sky and leaning against a crumbling brick pillar. She was starting to feel a little cold, but she felt the anxiousness that came from being sick and having to deal with it all by herself drop a little bit from her shoulders. She closed her eyes.

And inhaled. And started to cough. Hard.

Amy quickly spat her paci into her hand and fumbled for her inhaler. The coughing fit picked up speed, and she doubled over, glad no one could see her spitting into the dusty alley and struggling not to vomit from the force of the spasms. She managed to get the coughing under control, but then felt her lungs heave again. This time, as she coughed, she felt her bladder give out and she peed forcefully with each cough, soaking her already-wet pull-up.

Amy felt her diaper start to leak as she gulped again at her inhaler, and as she leaned, exhausted and spent against the pillar, she felt the hot liquid start to trickle out the sides. In horror, she looked down and bit her lip as she saw her dove-grey pants darken on either side of her panty lines. "Oh, no," she breathed, and pulled her pants away from her leaking diaper, walking quickly towards the door of the precinct.

But how was she going to get back to her desk to get a new pull-up? And the evidence was already there - she'd wet her pants, and it showed visibly. The little stains that had started on her pants had spread with her walking, and now she had two large wet patches, one on each leg, spreading down to her inner thighs. Amy couldn't see her backside, but she knew from the feeling that her diaper had leaked over her bottom, too, and that her blazer wasn't quite long enough to cover it. Everyone would see that she'd had a big accident.

Biting her lip roughly to keep from crying, she took a turn away from the gates of the precinct and into the nearest women's bathroom. And then she slumped against the wall of the disabled stall, wishing with all her might that Holt would somehow appear, that he'd be home early, and that he'd be able to take care of her. 

She pulled out her phone, sniffling, and texted Jake. _Where are you?_

 _East Brooklyn_ , came the reply after a moment or so. _Close to cracking this! Did u go home?_

Amy let out a sob. He was miles away - and not even close to coming back anytime soon. She could have asked him to help her change at least. Jake wasn't great at comforting Amy when she was like this, but he was good at fetching things she needed before she descended completely into Little headspace.

 _On my way home_ , she texted back, and vowed that as soon as she'd solved this issue, she would go home immediately. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool bathroom wall. If only she could be home right now. She'd be warm and dry and safe . . . 

Amy's dark eyes flew open as the bathroom door banged against the opposite wall, and she quickly pushed the door to the stall closed, but not quickly enough. Rosa Diaz's surprised almost-black eyes met Amy's, and her mouth opened a little as the stall door banged uselessly and then swung back towards Amy.

"Are you . . . ?" Rosa didn't even finish her sentence, and Amy realized she must look awful. Tearstained, her nose runny, and the evidence of her wet pants and diaper obvious. She shifted a little so that Rosa couldn't see how wet she was - Amy wasn't sure Rosa had actually even seen anything - and then just turned her face away.

She heard Rosa go into another stall, pressing the hand dryer on as she did so (Amy never did really understand Rosa's obsession with not being heard when she was in the bathroom - everyone peed, for God's sake), and Amy thought quickly. If she left now, she could pretend this had never happened. She knew Rosa wouldn't say anything. But her wet diaper squished coldly under her bottom, and she realized she couldn't leave. Not now. A quick look down proved that her pants were now saturated. Everyone would see.

Amy started to cry, grateful suddenly for the annoying loud blare of the hand dryer. Rosa surely couldn't hear her sobbing, and maybe she'd just wash her hands and leave Amy in peace.

Rosa, coming out of the stall, certainly looked like she'd like to do just that. She stalked quickly to the sink and washed her hands, drying them quickly with a paper towel, and turned towards the door, but not before she caught sight of Amy crying. And then her usually hard expression softened.

"Santiago. Why are you crying?" Rosa's deep, clipped voice sounded a little more gentle than usual. "You can't sit on that disgusting floor and, well, _cry_. Come on. You know that."

Amy just heaved a shaky sigh, hearing her sobs, hoarse and harsh, echo off the bathroom walls. "Go away."

"I'd really, really like to," replied Rosa, "but we both know I'm in too deep now." She pushed open the door and crouched down beside Amy. Amy turned away from Rosa, but not before she saw Rosa's sharp gaze sweep over her wet pants and her snotty, tearstained face. And then her face softened even more.

"What happened?"

"No." Amy didn't know what else to say. She didn't know how to deal with Rosa when she was sympathetic like this. She squinched her eyes closed, and felt Rosa's sensitive long fingers brush a few tendrils of hair out of her face.

"No?" Rosa's voice sounded amused. "Hey. It's okay." She turned Amy's face gently towards her. "You're just really sick. You're okay."

"I . . ." Amy trailed off, her voice wobbling and her eyes filling with tears. "I need Papa."

Now Rosa looked really confused. "Papa?" She gave up and sat down beside Amy on the floor. "Your dad?"

Amy shook her head irritably. "No, Papa." She started to cry again. "I'm really sick. I need to go home."

"That's definitely true," agreed Rosa. She grabbed a few squares of toilet paper from the dispenser and tried to hand them to Amy, but Amy just cried harder. Rosa, after a moment's hesitation, then wiped Amy's face herself. Her touch was gentle, but the paper was rough, especially under Amy's chafed nose, and she cried out again. Rosa's face creased in concern.

"Hey, _nena_. Shh." Rosa's voice was completely gentle, now, and Amy recognized the term of endearment from her childhood. _Baby girl._

"Did you have an accident?" Rosa looked down at Amy's pants, and uncharacteristically, put an arm around Amy. "Is that why you're sitting in here all alone?"

"I need Papa," Amy whispered, looking away from Rosa, but leaning into her. She started to cough again, and Rosa rubbed her back as Amy doubled over. 

"Okay. Let's try to find Papa." There was a hint of confusion still in Rosa's voice, and Amy wished suddenly that there had to be no explanations. No weirdness. How could she ever face Rosa at work again after this?

Amy, halfway through coughing, felt the painful sobs in her chest start up again, and Rosa hissed under her breath. Without asking, she pushed her hand into Amy's pocket and pulled out her inhaler. Amy felt like she'd had so much of the steroids today that she'd never sleep again, but the inhaler helped the coughing fit. She slumped against Rosa as the energy left her body, and Rosa let her. Amy felt Rosa's usually stiff body relax as she supported Amy against her chest.

"You are certainly disgustingly sick," Rosa commented quietly as Amy closed her eyes for a moment. "Okay. Where's your phone? Can I call Papa for you?"

"He's away," Amy murmured. She squirmed uncomfortably. "I peed my pants."

"I know," murmured Rosa, and stroked Amy's hair away from her head. "Is Papa . . . Captain Holt?" she ventured, and Amy wanted to hide her face against Rosa's silky shirt. But she nodded, instead, feeling her lower lip tremble.

"Yeah. He's away."

A number of emotions crossed Rosa's face, then, and Amy knew she was finally understanding what was going on. They'd all seen ageplay relationships in their work. Usually they ended in horrible murders or assaults at fetish clubs, but every cop at the precinct was familiar. And Rosa now looked down at Amy with just a hint of curiosity, but, Amy noted, no judgement at all.

"Okay. So who's taking care of you? Who's making sure you're okay while he's away?" Rosa stroked Amy's hair soothingly, her voice now back to its usual no-nonsense tone. "Is that person around? Can I get them to come and help you out of those wet pants so you can go home?"

Amy shook her head again, feeling exhaustion overtake her. She yawned suddenly. It was so _much_ to deal with all of this when she was this sick and this little. "Jake's on a case."

"Why doesn't it surprise me that Jake's into this, too?" murmured Rosa, but then her face changed as Amy's chin started to shake again. "Shh, shh, _nena_. It's okay. I'll help you. Don't worry about a thing."

"Okay," whispered Amy. She felt shy, all of the sudden, and Rosa had let go of her, and it felt strange. She held her arms out suddenly to Rosa, who, after a moment, pulled Amy in close for a hug.

"You're kind of sweet," she murmured, and Amy smiled a little bit against Rosa's shoulder.

"Okay. Let's get you cleaned up."

//~//

After Amy had managed to tell Rosa where her bag was ("Black. Under my desk,"), Rosa came back in and helped Amy strip off her wet pants. The pull-up made her stop for a moment, though. And for the first time, Rosa looked a bit uncertain, as if she wasn't sure what she was involving herself in.

"Uh. Okay, so you wear a diaper. I guess it's not that much of a surprise. Do you . . . do you wear them all the time?"

Amy flushed deeply, her face probably as red as Rosa's shirt. "I . . . I need them. I'm sorry." Her voice broke hoarsely at the end, and Rosa quickly pulled Amy in close, roughly, against her chest.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm not judging. Don't cry. Can you take it off for me?"

Amy pulled fruitlessly at the sides, and then whimpered. Rosa realized then how the pull-up worked, and with a quick movement, ripped the sides quickly so that Amy was bare from the waist down. Pulling out a wipe, Rosa handed it to Amy and turned her back quietly as Amy clumsily wiped herself off. But after she struggled to get all the places she was wet properly wiped, Rosa turned back around and hesitantly took another wipe, helping Amy finish wiping.

"There," Rosa breathed, sounding a bit relieved, and Amy sighed a bit. She did feel a little better.

Rosa helped Amy step into the dry overnight pull-up, and then pulled out her spare pair of pants, which were unfortunately black and did not match her dove-grey blazer. "Sorry, chica. But they're better than wet pants, right?" asked Rosa when Amy looked uncertain.

"They don't match."

"That's okay. You're gonna go straight home. No one's going to see but me."

"They don't match," Amy repeated, knowing she was being silly, but finding everything overwhelming and hard to deal with. Her voice wobbled, and Rosa quietly rubbed her hands down Amy's arms soothingly.

"It's okay. I promise it's okay."

After a moment, Amy stepped into the pants, and suddenly, in a huge rush, she felt a lot better. Her pants were clean and dry. Rosa had everything in hand - she even cleaned up the mess the wet pull-up made, and packed Amy's wet things back into her black bag. It felt so good to have someone just take over.

Amy felt tired as she stood beside Rosa and washed her hands. The water was cold, and Rosa had to turn on the hot tap for her after she started to shiver. "Silly Santiago," she said, her voice fond. "You don't have to wash your hands with cold water, you know."

Amy dried her hands with a paper towel and then whimpered. She was _so_ tired. Rosa's face creased in sympathy again - so strange when her usual expression was so stony. Underneath all that roughness, Rosa had a warm heart, Amy realized.

"Let's get you home, okay?" Rosa rubbed Amy's back as she ushered her out of the bathroom. "What else do you need? Anything?"

Amy shook her head. Everything was in her black bag, thankfully, and she'd packed her water bottle before going outside, knowing she'd be coming right back in to go home.

As they walked past the precinct on the way to the elevators that went to the parking garage, Amy noted that no one was really back from lunch yet. She could have gotten her bag herself. No one really would have seen.

But Rosa's warm hand on her back, gently guiding her into the elevator, felt grounding. And as the doors closed, Amy wondered if it was all meant to happen for a reason.

Maybe it was.

//~//

At home, Amy felt a momentary stab of embarrassment as Rosa helped her push open the door. The house was a mess by Amy's standards; the dishwasher hadn't been run, her living room had two blankets tossed carelessly over the couch, and she knew Jake hadn't cleaned the bedroom up yet. But she almost didn't care . . . and Rosa didn't look at all surprised or judgemental. Like anything else she did, she just confidently and carelessly walked in, slinging her coat over the armchair nearest the door, and placing Amy's bag by the door.

"Come on, _nena_. You need a nap." Rosa gave Amy a rare smile as Amy yawned, covering her face so Rosa couldn't see. "Don't try to hide it. You're sleepy."

"Too much coughing," Amy murmured, shedding her blazer, then the hated black pants, then her shirt as she walked to the bedroom in a long trail. Rosa looked amused, picking the clothes up behind Amy as she walked into the bedroom, and dropping them quietly in the laundry hamper near the door.

Amy fished in her pajama drawer, usually carefully folded and stacked by season, for her favorite pajamas that she wore when she was sick. They were grey, with white printed hearts, and were very soft. Rosa watched her pull them out, upsetting the careful order of the drawer, and then looked a little surprised when Amy walked right over to Rosa and handed her the PJs.

"Help?" Amy's voice was starting to cut in and out. She usually always lost her voice when she was sick, and today was no exception. Rosa smiled at her again.

"Okay. Just this once," she said, shooting Amy a warning look that Amy chose to ignore, and helped her take off her bra and her socks. Amy's pull-up was still dry, so Rosa helped her into the pants and shirt, and then gently took Amy's hair out of its tightly-wound bun.

Amy crawled into bed, yawning widely, feeling like her face was going to split into two. But as Rosa started to tuck her in, Amy felt overwhelmed and like she was forgetting something. She started to sniffle, rubbing her eyes. Rosa looked confused.

"What's up, Amy?"

"I need it." Amy rubbed her entire face, feeling her head start to ache with exhaustion and coughing so much. "I need my paci."

"Your . . . ?" Rosa trailed off, her face starting to look incredulous. Amy started to sob. It was too much to see Rosa look like that - like she thought a pacifier was a bridge too far. Amy _knew_ it was ridiculous. She didn't need to be judged for it.

But Rosa made a soft noise under her tongue and then stroked Amy's long dark hair. "I'm sorry, shh. I'm sorry. I'll find it. It's okay. A pacifier isn't all that weird, you know. We've all seen worse."

Amy laughed a little through her tears at that, and watched as Rosa searched the clothes in the hamper until she found the pacifier in Amy's pocket. "Here it is. Now, settle down," she said, the roughness in her voice coming back as she popped it into Amy's mouth. She watched as Amy snuggled down into her covers, and then in a show of rare affection, leaned down and pecked her cheek.

"Have a good sleep."

"Rosa?" Amy's voice was almost gone, and almost unintelligible around her paci, but Rosa, about to leave the room, turned back, her curly hair swishing over her back.

"What's up?"

"Stay with me?" Amy turned the full power of her melting dark eyes on Rosa. She'd never had anyone be able to resist, and though Rosa tried, hard, she sighed and relented, turning back.

"Okay. I'll stay with you. But go to sleep, or else."

Amy smiled as Rosa climbed into bed beside her, and scooted into her arms. "I'll be good."

Rosa smiled. "You'd better be."

And Amy fell asleep with Rosa's warm arms around her, finally feeling safe and sound.


End file.
